


Promises made

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Coma, Death, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Feels, Family Trees, Inherited traits, Named Reader, Oaths & Vows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Promises, Running Away, Sylvie watkins, Voluntary experimentation, World War II, keeping secrets, legacy, lying, unexpected love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-29 02:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17799104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Promises made in the 1940s are kept in the present day; but what new revelations find The Man with The Plan when ghosts from the past start popping up?Steve Rogers/Named Reader





	1. Chapter 1

_**1940** _

 

Bucky Barnes woke that morning to a soft pair of arms around him, his breath fanning across warm, bare skin. He smiled, remembering the night before, all the promises he'd made in the throes of passion; he intended on keeping them. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, earning a sleepy hum, before heading to the kitchenette of his small flat. Somebody had to start a pot of coffee. They'd been up far too late.   
  
It'd started out like any other date for them. He'd picked her up from her parents' house, grinning ear to ear at those pretty stockings she knew he loved; with the lines up the back. He'd kissed her cheek quickly, but her eyes had already fallen to the most noticeable change on him.  
  
The clean cut of a uniform looked good on him; but it still filled her with dread.  
  
Her beloved Bucky had been drafted.  
  
Howard Stark's science expo wasn't enough to keep them from words; she knew he didn't have a choice, that to go would mean desertion, but her heart broke nonetheless. So many sons and brothers had already left to fight, never to come back. Her Bucky was special, but she couldn't help but picture a German bullet with his name on it. She'd told him as much, and he'd done all he could to soothe her; swore he'd be careful, that the Nazis wouldn't know what hit them, that he had too much to look forward to not to come back.  
  
His sweet words almost helped.  
  
Almost.  
  
His kind, sickly best friend said much of the same. "He'll be okay," Steve was faithful in his friend, practically brothers. "He's too damn stubborn to let himself be killed."  
  
She was glad Bucky had a friend like Steve. She wished he could go with him, watch his back, keep each other safe; but the young man's laundry list of ailments would always keep him from the front lines, no matter how often he tried to enlist.  
  
She hoped he'd find a nice girl someday, who understood his issues; but most of her hopes went to Bucky. The whole world on his horizon; waiting to kill him.  
  
They were terrified; and fear can be a most potent aphrodisiac, as it was that night. Nearly busting down his own door, tearing clothes, careless moans, and a severe lack of preparation.They needed each other, in the most base sense; they soaked in each other's fear, and provided a cold comfort in that hot embrace.  
  
He hoped she knew he meant all of it; the promise of a ring, a life. He'd give it all, everything, to her the moment he got back to US soil.  
  
He just had to make it back.  
  
He poured himself a cup of hot caffeine, staring at the bright sunrise from his window. It'd be one of the last he'd see before he shipped out, and he'd be lying if he claimed he wasn't terrified. His battalion was strong, undoubtedly, but anything could happen. They called it 'the horrors of war' for a reason; and he wondered in abject uncertainty about what kind of man he'd be on the other side. Would he be enough for her? Would she still want him? Could he still give her everything he swore he would?  
  
He'd have to. James Buchanan Barnes was a man of his word to the last. He sipped at his coffee, breathing in the crisp morning air. Relishing those quiet moments of freedom, that might never feel the same again.  
  
"Mornin' Barnes," her sleep addled voice surprised him as her hands warmed him, smoothing over his bare shoulders. She pressed against his back; she'd thrown on one of his shirts to join him. "Bed's awful cold without my personal wood stove."  
  
He smiled; he'd miss warming to her touch, eventually turning to fire under her fingers. He turned to face her, setting the mug on the counter. "Figured we could use a little 'Joe," he murmured, cradling her cheeks. "Long night and all."  
  
She smiled as her lover peppered kisses across her cheeks and forehead, combing his fingers through mussed curls. "So it was," she agreed. As incredible, practically life changing, the night had been, she'd spent her slumber in nightmares. A flag and dog tags handed to her on her doorstep, a funeral with no body. As his kiss heated up, her blood still ran cold. She tugged at his dark locks, pulling him from her neck to stare into those unforgettable blues; it made the lump in her throat grow larger, tears welled up. "Don't you die, James Barnes."  
  
He took her seriously as he kissed her softly, hugging her waist. "Not plannin' on it, doll," he whispered, swaying her gently. "Besides, I got too much on my plate here to waste my time with dyin'. Got my sweetheart to look after, got to keep Stevie out of trouble," she smirked at that, though a sad one. "I've got way too much livin' in me to leave you. I'm on you like glue."  
  
It didn't alleviate the fear; nothing would, until she saw him safe once again. But in his sunbathed kitchen, his loving blue eyes gazing at her, she very nearly believed every word. "And I'm stuck on you like honey," she muttered, leaning up for another kiss. "I love you, Bucky."  
  
"I love you too, Sylvia Watkins."  
  
She wouldn't find out til long after he'd left just how life changing that night truly was.  
_**  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

She didn't want to tell Bucky about the baby in a letter; it didn't seem right. None of it did. When a man becomes a father, the mother should have the honor seeing his face, watching him light up; but war wasn't going to stop just because life was moving on.  
  
Her parents weren't exactly thrilled; in a word, they were livid. As much as they loved Bucky, an upstanding boy with military service, he'd still gone and spoiled their little girl. She didn't know what they meant by spoiled - she felt he'd blessed her.  
  
"What if he doesn't come back!?" Her father had shouted, the evening she'd told them. "You won't even be a war widow!! Just another woman with an obligation on her hip! Who'll marry you then!?"  
  
That same night, she went to stay with the Barnes'. They were far more sympathetic; whether out of responsibility or genuine excitement, they welcomed her. Rebecca was eager to hear all about it; and Sylvia had to swear her to secrecy. Bucky had to hear this news from her, one way or another.  
  
She clung to his letters in cold comfort, as he tried to keep his prose light and without action; she knew he was trying to protect her, keep her from experiencing the horrors he himself was facing. She was grateful for it; but still would have given anything to be at his side. Still, as the baby grew and the bump became more noticeable, she put off telling him.  
  
It didn't take long for Steve to catch on. Not when her dresses started tightening.  
  
"He's got a right to know, Sylvie," she was visiting Steve's home, getting yet another earful from the young, perpetually ill man. "How's he goin' to feel when he comes back to a toddler you didn't tell him about?"  
  
She ran a hand over the ghost of a swell behind her skirt, nervousness yet again clutching hold. "I... I don't mean not to tell him, Steve. I just need 'im to come back. This isn't the type of thing you leave up to chickenscratch; its a whole new life! I can't... it can't just be..."  
  
"Don't ya think that him knowing he's got a baby to come home to will give him some incentive not to get hurt?" Ever the voice of reason, that reckless little blond. "I know for a fact he'd be over the moon about this, Sylvie. He'll come runnin' back to pick out baby names and build a crib the second he can."  
  
She giggled at that, setting down on Steve's sofa. "You're off the cob now, Steve," her hands fidgeted in her lap. "It just wish I could tell him myself. Isn't that what mothers are supposed to do? Its our one big secret... the one thing we'll always know before the fathers."  
  
"In my experience, my Ma knew everything before anybody else did," he placed a cup of tea in her hands; it was the one thing he knew how to make that she liked. "Just 'cause you're not sayin' it to his face doesn't make it any less special. He's gonna be a Dad; you're givin' him the world."  
  
She sipped her tea thoughtfully, watching as Steve sat next to her. She counted herself lucky that he was still around, that some semblance of family still surrounded her. She reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze; he squirmed awkwardly. Poor Steve Rogers; such a sweet boy, but never much one with the ladies. "Thank you for listenin' to all my groaning, Steve," she spoke softly, keeping herself from tears; pregnancy was making her an easy crier. "Without you, or the Barnes'... I don't know what I'd do."  
  
Steve couldn't help but feel a little pride at that; he might not have been the strapping specimen Buck was, but he was glad to know he was still appreciated. "Hey, what kind of man would I be if I didn't keep an eye on things here? I'm goin' to be an uncle, after all!"  
  
She laughed at that; something that was few and far between in those days. She cherished it dearly. "Yes, yes you will." Her hands once again cupped her burgeoning bump, a little more confidently. Her baby would always have a family, blood or not. She was so thankful for the friends in her life.  
  
"So... you'll write to him?" Steve prompted,  taking a swig of his own mug of tea. It was helping to fight off his latest flare of asthma.

She rolled her eyes with mock annoyance, shaking her head. "Yes, I'll write to him!" She promised, clinking her mug against his in an impromptu toast. "The letter routes are gettin' awful nowadays, though. Tell you what; if your next hair brained scheme to enlist goes off without a hitch, you can tell him for me."  
  
He knew how unlikely it was he'd really be accepted and sent overseas, but Sylvie entrusting him with that news was quite the honor. "I'll make sure he hears it," he promised back, crossing his heart. "And I've got a good feeling about this next one. Think I'll actually get away with it this time!" 

______________________________________

  
Tears of excitement spattered her page as she wrote Bucky about their brand new life. She struggled to find the words at first; but imagining him before her, intent on every word, finally got her brain going...  
  
  
_My Bucky,_  
  
_I'm sorry to say I haven't told you something these last few months. I've been frightened; scared telling you might ruin things, or make you reckless. I want you safe, above anything else, my love._  
  
_I'm in the family way, Bucky. About two months along now. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, but with all the terrible you're facing every day, I didn't want to give you more to worry over. Steve tells me you'll be thrilled, so he had better be right. I'm thrilled, if it isn't clear. I'm so happy to be having your baby, Bucky, and I know the timing is shoddy at best, but I hope that we'll get to be a family. That a family is what you want with me. That's what you said, isn't it?_  
  
_I'm staying with your Ma and sister now, by the way; my mum and pop weren't too happy when I told them. I don't care about all that, though; I know we'll be okay, the three of us. We just have to last until you're home._  
  
_Stay safe, Buck. For me, and our little one._  
  
_I love you so much honey,_  
  
_xxxxx,_  
  
_Sylvie Watkins (maybe Barnes, one day!)_  
  
  
To end the letter, she'd kissed it with his favorite shade of lipstick. She knew it wouldn't hold the warmth her kisses normally did, but she hoped he'd feel the love in it nonetheless. She added a few favored baby names to the back, sealed it in an envelope, and postmarked it for the 107th regiment.  
  
The letter wouldn't reach Bucky's hands before the ambush. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's gonna be a lot of sad in this fic; I'm just telling you now. But hey, if you like it, leave me a comment! I love hearing from readers! ♡


	3. Chapter 3

What a year it had been for Steve Rogers.  
  
Or as they now called him, "The Star-Spangled Man with The Plan!"  
  
...he really wished they'd just call him Steve.  
  
The world looked different with an extra foot and an extra few dozen pounds of muscle; he finally had the chance to take on the responsibilities, the duties he'd always felt the call to. He could finally serve his country, and stand up for the little guy he'd been, and for all the other little guys in the world.  
  
And they had him in tights, doing morale tours. He was finally the man he felt he was on the inside, and they turned him in to a dancing monkey; and they expected him to shut up and do the routine.  
  
On top of it, one of the very reasons he'd accepted the opportunity for the serum was out of his grasp; Bucky was still missing, along with a large chunk of his regiment. Good men, men with less power than him, had their lives on the line for the world's safety, and just when he thought he could help them, the government sat him down and turned him into a show pony.  
  
It felt like some kind of cruel joke.  
  
He hadn't even had the chance to see Sylvie's baby before they shipped him off on tour. That had been yet another blow to his heart.  
  
When Bucky's disappearance was reported back home, she'd very nearly miscarried. Overcome with grief, drowning in sorrow, the Barnes family felt it was safest that she spend the last weeks of her pregnancy in hospital, where she could be monitored. Every day was excruciating, wondering if the child inside her would be born fatherless. Steve, nearly finished with his training, would visit as often as he could. It was the one brightness she had in a world that seemed dark.  
  
"You're runnin' off on me too, Steve," her voice was hoarse from crying as she held his hand, days before Dr.Erskine would conduct the injections. "Off to fight... oh Steve I can't lose the both of you, please-- you don't need to fight, please don't go--!"  
  
He'd hugged her then, as tight as his worn out arms would allow, trying so hard to be the comfort she needed. "I'll be alright, Sylvie," he mumbled, waiting until her sobs subsided before letting go. "I'm goin' to go and I'll find Buck. I'll trounce him good for gettin' himself caught in the first place, then he's goin' right back home t'you. We'll both end this war and come back home."  
  
So far, the military and propagandists were making a liar out of him. He was little more than a puppet, and while Sylvie had undoubtedly had the baby by then, he wasn't a stitch closer to keeping his word.  
  
'Man with The Plan' indeed.  
  
His song and dance act had brought him to the troops in Italy, who weren't as enthusiastic as the civilian crowds he was used to. Unlike them, and him, those men had seen war up close and personal. It almost felt insulting, parading around in his stars and stripes. What right did he have to tell them about war bonds that weren't even keeping them warm?  
  
Camped out on the currently unused platform, Steve had a sheet of paper before him. He was trying to write, give Sylvie some sort of news, but everything felt like too much and simultaneously not enough. How could he tell one of his dearest friends what he was now, much less how he still hadn't fulfilled her wishes. There wasn't anything he could put down in his scrawl that didn't make him feel shameful, as if he was squandering all his newfound power.  
  
Even if he wasn't the one calling the shots.  
  
"Rogers," a gruff voice called his head up; Colonel Phillips sauntered up to him, his hardened face bearing an even more sullen expression than usual. Steve stood, saluting, like a good soldier. "At ease. Listen, we received comms about some movement by the 107th."  
  
His ears perked up hopefully; but somehow he already knew the news wasn't good. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the flounce of Peggy Carter's curls, hidden under a tent flap. If that sweet girl was nearby, he knew it'd be news he'd want comfort over.  
  
"What's the word?" He asked, hands tensing for fear of the letter he'd have to write.  
  
The colonel's eyes sympathized for a split second, before he read the boilerplate off a telegram. "Fifty men succeeded in the escape from Johann Schmidt's captivity," he caught Steve's hopeful blue eyes; he'd seen that look on too many faces. "James Buchanan Barnes was not among those men recovered. He is considered KIA."  
  
The colonel gave a curt nod, moving off to deliver what more bad news he had for others; but Steve's world practically stopped. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, none of it. He was meant to be fighting, to find Bucky, and to send him home for the life waiting for him. He'd never felt so powerless, and no added height or muscles was helping there. It enraged him; and in that, a spark was lit.  
  
"Steve," Peggy's gentle accent found his ear, and he met her eye. What a woman, Peggy was; he liked to think he felt for her what Bucky felt for Sylvie. She seemed to know him almost instantly, could read his little mannerisms; and knew by the look on his face that day that he did indeed have a plan in mind. "What's on your mind, Captain Rogers?"  
  
He straightened up, furrowing his brows. If this was to be his only mission, he'd go through hell and high water to ensure it was successful. "If I know my pal he's too stubborn to die, and I'm not lettin' him off that easy. I'm goin' to Austria."  
  
As he moved to march away, figure out how exactly to get there, Peggy called after him. "It'd be quicker to fly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liking my work? Kudos/comment! Love you guys ♡


	4. Chapter 4

The sky was gloomy over Brooklyn that day, and Sylvie was tired.   
  
No, Sylvie was exhausted.   
  
The world wasn't getting any brighter as the war wore on, more and more families being awarded folded flags rather than their loved ones. She'd wake every morning to the day looking grayer, lights a little less shiny. It was getting so hard to stay optimistic when all she wanted was those bright blues back.   
  
Like Steve, a million miles away, Sylvie had refused to believe it when Bucky's folded flag showed up in the hands of a serviceman. While his mother and sister wept, she steeled her heart. Bucky was a man of his word; and he wouldn't be kept from his family. Killed in action, is what they called it; but she wouldn't buy it, not without a body. Her Bucky was stronger than that; and even if he didn't have the whole story, she knew he'd fight for her.   
  
For them.   
  
A cry brought her from her thoughts, to the little spot of vibrancy in her world. In a little bassinet, the same one Bucky once rocked in, their baby cooed for her mother. Tiny hands reached out, gurgling happily as Sylvie's now practiced arms picked her up, placed her to nurse. She'd surprised herself with how easily she took to motherhood; though her daughter made it easy. She poured all the love she saved for Bucky into raising her, keeping her safe; and would do whatever it took to keep it that way.   
  
She stroked her daughter's hair from her face as she fed noisily at her breast; she had his thick, soft hair, though in Sylvie's color. Gratefully nourished, the little bundle pulled back and gazed up at her mother; she'd also inherited her father's dazzling blues. She'd break hearts with those.   
  
Sylvie kissed her forehead. "Don't you fret, Rosie. Daddy will be home soon," daylight seemed brighter as she rocked her baby. "Uncle Stevie too."   
  
_____________________________________  
  
  
Considerably beat up, bloodied, but breathing, Steve Rogers marched alongside his best friend and the remains of his battalion, lives won and returning to allied ground.   
  
Finally, he'd _done_ something.   
  
The trip back wasn't the time to tell Bucky everything; his beloved Sylvie, the life they'd made, what was waiting for him at home. The poor man was coming off of torture and experimentation, and was barely grasping how his little sickly friend now dwarfed him in height and muscle.   
  
He'd save the best news for last.   
  
Bucky, in the meantime, was still sent reeling by the very appearance of his best friend. His tenacity had finally paid off, and he was indeed rewarded for it; he was right where he always wanted to be. In the back of his mind, he felt a little pang of worry; Steve was to keep an eye on Sylvie, keep her safe while he was gone. He knew the war hadn't hit the home front yet, but he feared for her all the same. He wasn't going to bombard Steve with questions during their escape; but he'd grill him good once they had a moment's peace.   
  
That peace came in the form of a night's furlough, celebrating their freedom with a drink; even if Steve couldn't feel it.   
  
"So," Bucky was the one to start, fingers turning the beer stein before him. He glanced to his best friend, or rather the superman his best friend had become. "You look different. New haircut?"   
  
Steve smiled his bashful smile. "Oh y'know. Tryin' these new vitamins. Think they're doing their job."   
  
They both laughed at that, though there was something hollow to it. The world was not the same one they'd been born into; and it would never be that way again. Every new day was completely unknown, and exciting though that was, it terrified them both. Nothing could be guaranteed.   
  
"Really though," Bucky started again, seriously. "What the hell happened?"   
  
It wasn't a question that could be avoided anymore; and Steve felt if anyone deserved an explanation, it was Bucky. "Well... y'remember how I kept tryin' to sneak into the war?"   
  
"Vividly." 

Steve smirked. "Well... apparently they like that kind of can-do attitude. And they were putting together this program..." he shook his head, remembering the kindly doctor who had changed his life so completely... and lost his own. "I was supposed to be the first of many. Now... it's lookin' like I'll be the one and only."   
  
Bucky took stock of his friend. In some ways, his life was the same; he was still one of a kind, and sure, he was easier on the eyes, but his new superpowers alienated him just as his illnesses had before. Steve was always cut from a different cloth; but now it was spangled with stars and stripes.   
  
"Well... so long as you're still that punk kid Steve Rogers?" He clapped his best friend on the shoulder, reforging their bond. "I'm still on your team, pal."   
  
"Thanks, Buck," Steve chuckled, raising his glass. "Maybe quit tryin' to get yourself killed next time."  
  
He pulled a face at that, finishing his drink. He had some more important questions. "Now I've been dyin' to ask... how's Sylvie? She still my girl?"   
  
Steve straightened up in his seat; elated though he was to share the news, the man had just come off a year of torture. He wasn't sure what the right words were for his friend. "Actually, about Sylvie..."   
  
Bucky flinched with dread. "Oh no, not 'about Sylvie'-don't tell me she's got herself another fella? I know I was technically dead-- aw hell I got to write her, tell her what happened-- oh god I hope she'll still give me the time of day--"   
  
"Calm down, Buck," Steve laughed. It was amusing to see cocksure confident Bucky Barnes so nervous. But the right woman will do that. "Nothin' like that. Sylvie's just... uh--"   
  
Saved by a red dress.   
  
Peggy Carter came wafting into the bar like a vision, practically poured into a red cocktail dress that did her every favor imaginable. It stopped the talk of most of the bar; but it stopped Steve's very heart. Both he and Bucky stood on principle as she stopped in front of him.   
  
"Captain Rogers." Professional to a fault, Peggy was.   
  
"Agent Carter," he replied, trying so desperately to keep his cool. "What brings you out?"   
  
"Ma'am." Bucky greeted politely with a charming smile; in love or not, he knew a beautiful dame when he saw one. Not that it mattered. She never took her eyes off Steve.  
  
"Message from the Colonel; have some new technologies for you to test out before your _crack team_ goes off to fight," she presented him with a thin stack of letters as well. "Had a bit of mail while you were gone, as well."   
  
Bucky eyed the letters; he thought he saw his home address. "A-anything for me, ma'am?"  
  
She glanced to him briefly; Steve had once mentioned Bucky's girl back home. "Still waiting on them to ship from the American base," she explained. "But they're on their way."   
  
She bid them both good night, turning to leave. "Would you like to join us, agent?" Steve blurted out. "Make a night of it?"   
  
Peggy glanced back, eying him from head to toe. "Another time, perhaps," a smile played knowingly at her lips. "Just the two of us."   
  
Bucky whistled once the British agent was out of earshot. "Lookit you, Stevie," he snickered, patting his friend's back. "Went and got yourself a life without even checkin' with me."   
  
He would've thrown back a good natured rib, but he was already into one of the envelopes. It had the Barnes' home address, but it was Sylvie's handwriting; and inside wasn't a letter, but a photograph.   
  
"Speakin' of," he started slowly, handing him the photo. His grin was busting as he watched Bucky's eyes widen, his jaw drop. "You've got yourself one too."   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like my work? Kudos / comment! Love you guys ♡♡


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't going to be a happy story...

Rose Elizabeth Barnes.  
  
That's what Sylvie had scrawled on the back of the photo. It's the name she'd given her baby.  
  
_'Our baby,'_ Bucky corrected himself. _'I'm a father.'_  
  
He stared at the picture that hadn't left his sight all night. Sprawled out in his bunk, he studied every inch of that blurry, black and white snapshot that gave him something to go home to. It was the pair of them; they were in his mother's living room, and he pondered on if it was her or his sister who'd snapped it. She was smiling, practically mid laugh as she held their child up to the lens, to his waiting eye.  
  
She was a beautiful little thing, with chubby little arms and cheeks, Sylvie's locks mirrored on her tiny head. She seemed to be grinning too, if she even understood what grinning was. Her eyes though, even in the dimness of grey scale; he knew she had his sea blue eyes. The moment he saw her, he knew she was his. And he loved her completely.  
  
"That's my girl," he breathed out to the empty barrack. "My girls."  
  
He'd been rendered speechless at first the bar, overcome with a slew of emotions that he couldn't even name. Steve filled in the gaps where he could; how their last night together had wound up with Sylvie pregnant, how her parents had turned her out and she'd gone to stay with his Ma. How she'd wanted to wait til he got home to tell him, but Steve convinced her otherwise... and how she'd nearly lost everything when word of his capture was sent home. That had broke him; he'd promised he'd come back to her, that he'd survive. Hydra was keen on making that a falsity; and it made his blood boil. The thought that any Hydra operative would live to threaten his family drew from him a fury he didn't know he had. He couldn't rest without knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that his family was safe.  
  
But that meant staying there, fighting with Steve. More time away from home.  
  
He'd asked Steve for some stationary, and a pencil laid next to him, waiting to be used. What was he supposed to tell her? How could he comfort her, make her feel safe, when he was looking at more months spent apart? He stared at her wide smile, their sweet child. All he wanted was to hold them, to make her smile himself.  
  
But there was still more he needed to do.  
  
_Sylvie baby,_  
  
_Hate to tell you, but you can't get rid of me that easy. These Hydra bastards tried to keep me from you, but that's never going to happen. I'm on you like glue, doll._  
  
_Steve came and found me. Can't leave him alone for five goddamn minutes, can I? He's looking real different. He told me you didn't get to see him before he left either; I'm sorry we keep leaving you, Sylvie. Once I'm home I'm home for good. With you and our Rosie._  
  
_What a surprise that was! Steve showed me the snapshot as soon as he got it; holy cow I'd nearly forgot how beautiful you are. And going and giving me a baby on top of that? You're an angel, Sylvie. I don't know how you wound up with some punk like me, but I'm so lucky you're mine. The second I come home, we're going right to city hall and getting married; so long as you'll have me. I want to spend my life making you happy, baby, and keeping you safe. But that means I can't go home just yet._  
  
_There's nothing I want more than to see you, Sylvie. I want to kiss those pretty lips again, get into all kinds of trouble like we used to. I want to meet my daughter. I want everything for you, for us, that you deserve, but I can't go back knowing these horrible people are still out there. I know I'm no good, I shouldn't be staying, but it's what I need to do. And I know you must be calling me a pig headed would be hero, and you'll show me what for the minute I get home, but I can't rest til I know the world is safe for us._  
  
_You're my number one girl, Sylvie Watkins. I'll do all I can in my life to see you happy. Until I can hold you again, dreaming of you will keep me going._  
  
_I love you, I love our Rosie_  
  
_I'll be home soon_  
  
_Your Bucky_  
  
  
What was she supposed to write back?  


She read his words over and over, disbelief and joy and shock mingling with frustration and a freshly broken heart. When she saw his telltale scrawl, her heart skipped a beat; as adamant as she was he was always alive, the proof was finally in her hands. Her heart soared, that he at least got to see his child in print; and then plummeted, when he made it clear he wouldn't be rushing home.  
  
She knew this about him when they'd started courting; when Bucky sees people in trouble, he jumps to help. It's how he met Steve, it was one of the many reasons she loved him. She knew that his need to keep her safe was born out of that same love, but anger bubbled in her nonetheless. They could keep each other safe, if he'd only come home. Knowing Steve was there - in an entirely different body, she'd seen the trading cards - brought a little comfort, but she wouldn't consider Bucky to be out of harm's way until she was holding him again. That was all that she needed; she could make it through anything, if he'd just be there beside her.  
  
But the same couldn't be said with as much certainty for Rosie. Sylvie ran a hand over her sleeping babe's head, her nose whistling with a peaceful snore. She was just an innocent, not even talking yet; and there was far too harsh a world waiting for her. Sylvie didn't want her daughter growing up in the terror that was wartime, she didn't want to imagine her having to guess what day the bombs would drop. That couldn't be her reality... and her father was fighting to keep that from happening. He was risking life and limb so his daughter might never have to, and in Bucky's own special way, it was the greatest gift he could give her. He was protecting her too; only from a distance.  
  
She sighed, wiping her cried out eyes before looking at the snapshot he'd sent along to her. Him and Steve - though barely recognizable - laughing, grinning at the camera, as if they were just spending the day at Coney Island. It looked so normal, helped her feel normal. Her handsome husband to be, happy and healthy with his best friend. That was the life they were fighting for.  
  
She decided she could stand a few more fights. She knew he was coming home; at his own pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like my work? Kudos / comment! Love you guys ♡


	6. Chapter 6

Sylvie's outlook had begun to grow brighter ever since she'd received that letter. Days were growing warmer on her skin, she was smiling more. The whole Barnes household was buzzing with a livelihood that had went missing when Bucky did; but that wasn't the case any longer. Now, the time was growing bearable. Even as the months passed, she found her hope didn't wane; and that charming little newsreel that included her darling certainly helped too. That was her man, there; second in command in the Howling Commandos, the right hand to Captain America.   
  
Though she'd always just call him Steve.   
  
The war seemed winnable, for the first time. The axis were balking, the Nazis were failing; and to hear her boys tell it, this hidden group called Hydra was running scared. She didn't dare speak of it, but she was starting to count the days til Bucky came home; they had a life to get living.   
  
Bucky's mother and Rebecca were out for the day, running errands and trading rations vouchers. The war wasn't over yet,  after all. Sylvie had just placed Rosie down for her nap, and for the first time that day, she'd set down to rest her feet. She didn't dare to diminish all the work Bucky was doing for the free world, but she would be glad to have his extra hands around the house. Keeping up with Rosie was becoming a challenge; once she'd learned to walk, she was racing. Sylvie couldn't wait for Bucky to see how she'd grown.   
  
The phone rang; which was unusual. Not many of the Barnes' family friends owned telephones yet. Never one to refuse a phone call - she liked the technology - she picked up the receiver, pen poised in hand to take a message.   
  
"Barnes residence, Sylvie Watkins speaking. Who may I ask is calling?"   
  
A sigh crackled from the other end. "Sylvie."   
  
Her mouth gaped and the pen dropped. "Steve!? Is that you!?" She heard him hum, affirming his voice. "H-how are you calling here!? Are you back in New York, are you home? Is--"   
  
"Easy," Steve's voice sounded disconnected, but she chalked that up to the phone lines. "Mr.Stark, he's got all these new-fangled, space age gadgets... found a way to connect me to ya."   
  
That Howard Stark and his marvelous contraptions. "T-thats amazing," she breathed, careful not to wake the baby in the next room. "Is... is Bucky with you? Can I talk to him? Not that isn't stellar to hear from you Stevie, but I'd love to hear his voice."   
  
Silence from the other end. A broken breath.   
  
"Sylvie," she could hear the tears in his voice and could feel her heart ripping out. "Somethin'... somethin' happened..."   
  
_'No.'_  
  
_'No no no.'_  
  
She managed an aching sob as she collapsed to the tiled floor, as if all the strength had left her body. "No," she voiced her thoughts in ragged pleas. "Steve, no, please..."   
  
She could hear his own cries from the other end, those million miles away. "I-I'm so sorry, darlin'... I never meant... this wasn't supposed to happen."  
  
He didn't have to say the words for her to know; but she needed him to say it. Cut those last few heartstrings. "H-he could be okay, couldn't he?" She blubbered hopefully, breath coming out in gasps. "Too stubborn to die, right? H-he could just be captured again..?"   
  
His own heart broke for her, and it killed him to tell her the truth; but what kind of man would he be if he gave her false hope? "I... I don't think so, Syl. We... we were on this train, up in the mountains... it was an accident," he listened to her terrible wails, that mournful song, and he would've given every single inch of his muscles just to be there to soothe her again. "I... I saw him fall. He's gone, Sylvie."   
  
And all that brightness in her world turned black.   
  
Air kept filling her lungs and her blood kept pumping, even though she felt like she was dying. Her hand knotted in her dress, grasping tightly as if to hold herself together; an impossible feat. War had made a liar out of Bucky Barnes. Fate had stolen a good man from his family. "H-how is this happening?" She whispered into the phone, panting in panic. "Th-this isn't right! He was supposed to come home!" 

Holed up in a corner of Stark's bunker, Steve slumped against the bricks, defeated. Beyond being a dear friend, he knew everything Sylvie had riding on bucky making it back to her; and Steve couldn't even do that. "I-I know? Syl... I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry."   
  
The gasps, the sobbing didn't stop. He'd bear the brunt of her sorrow, her anger. She deserved to unleash it; part of this was on him too. "You... you were watching each other's backs...! He was supposed to be safe with you!!"   
  
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, his tear ducts aching with no more liquid left to expel. "I wish it could've been me, Sylvie, I do. I'd give anything to put him back with you right now, I swear."   
  
She settled for defeated cries, unable to hold herself up anymore. "What am I going to do?" The fright in her voice was clear, her world just becoming more unclear than it'd ever been. "My... my baby will never know her father... how am I going to protect her?"   
  
Steve swallowed down his own grief; this part he'd prepared for. It wasn't what he wanted, but he'd take responsibility. He'd look after them. "I... I'd marry you, Sylvie," he murmured. His heart wrenched for its true owner, but he kept it down. Bucky's blood was on his hands; he wouldn't have his best girl and daughter be lost too. He knew how an unmarried woman with a baby looked to the uninformed eye; and he wouldn't have people slander her for his own mistake. "If that's what you wanted. When I get home, I'd... I'd keep you safe. I know I'm not him, and I'd never try to be. But if I can help, I will."  
  
Silence from the other end.   
  
"Steve..." she breathed, her nails almost tearing her dress. "I appreciate the gesture... but I don't think I could even look at you without seeing his face."   
  
He grit his teeth, but nodded; she was entitled to this hurt. "I understand," he said softly, wishing he could do more. Once again, Steve Rogers felt powerless. "I'll kill every last one of them, Syl. I won't stop til Hydra is just a memory; they'll pay. I'll make sure of that."   
  
What was she meant to say? No words or promises off the golden boy's lips would bring her darling back to life. "I'm sure you will, Steve," she mumbled. "Don't... don't you go off and die too, okay?"   
  
He smiled slightly; the first he had since Bucky fell. "I'll do my best," he promised he'd get back, and he'd protect the family his best friend was cheated out of. "I have to go, Syl, but I'll check in when this is all over. Then I'm comin'... I'm comin' home. We'll get you flyin' right, I promise."  
  
She nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Okay," what was she meant to do next? "Good... goodbye, Steve."   
  
The line clicked, and went dead. Sylvie Watkins stood to face life, alone.   
  
She'd never again put stock in any promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet, folks! 
> 
> Like my work? Kudos / comment! Love you guys ♡


	7. Chapter 7

_**2010** _

  
What a thing to wake up to - the future.   
  
Steve Rogers barely recognized the world in which he'd been revived. 70 years in the Arctic had left him behind; science and tech making advancements he never could've imagined. The New York skyline was completely transformed, and his little block had been demolished years ago. He might've looked the same, but he felt like a relic.   
  
And now the world needed him to catch up in a hurry.   
  
Nick Fury was a military man; at least that felt familiar. But the way he spoke, and the threats that loomed on the horizon, they were the stuff of nightmares. Red Skull and Hydra had practically killed Steve; now every new villain seemed to dwarf them. The world needed a new Captain America, but Steve Rogers was hardly even thawed yet.   
  
He'd have killed for something, someone familiar. Just something that was still the same.   
  
The new world, he decided, was one built on heartbreaks. He felt the first when he'd tried to visit his parents' graves, only to find the city had built up over it. According to Fury and his rehabilitation doctors, this was just a given now; Steve didn't care for that. His old neighborhood was nothing like it once was, his favorite haunts were long gone. His world had been erased for a bright, shiny new one.   
  
He hated it; he'd find himself up most nights, wishing that they'd just left him and that awful blue box in the ice. It was better than the nightmares; trapped in his own mind, alone in his thoughts of crashing that plane, his last words with Peggy... Bucky falling from the train...  
  
Then hope glimmered again; there was one stitch of family he could still look up.   
  
"Director Fury," Steve had grown accustomed to the imposing figure of Nick Fury, seated at his outpost desk, organizing files on an all too complex computer. "Was wondering if you could help me out with something. Finding someone."   
  
The eyepatched man leaned back in his chair, regarding the man out of time. "Mornin', Cap," he greeted, before glancing to his screen. "Who you lookin' to find?"   
  
He fidgeted on the spot, nervous all of a sudden. Would Sylvie even be alive? Would she even want to see him, young and untouched by age? No... but someone else might. "My pal, Bucky... he left some family behind. He had a daughter, Rosie Barnes; do you think you could find her?"   
  
Fury took a long pause before turning to his keyboard, opening up a new window to find the woman in question; as if he didn't already know what happened to her. For the Captain's benefit, he searched the name, knowing what would come up. "There's a few Rose Barnes in New York, Rogers. Can you narrow it down?"   
  
"Her middle name is Elizabeth," he replied hopefully. "Rose Elizabeth Barnes. Her... her mother's name was Sylvie. Sylvia."   
  
Fury, all-knowing, already had the page pulled up; he hated to do it to Steve, but the man deserved to know. With a sigh, he turned the screen. "Is this her?"   
  
Steve leaned in, and his heart wrenched again; it was a newspaper article, a few years old. An obituary.

 **"Sargeant Rose Barnes succumbs to                        cancer at the age of 65"**  

Yet another loss.   
  
"I'm sorry, Rogers," Fury stood, watching as the captain scanned the article. "I know you're in a bad way here... we can have some agents escort you to her resting place, if you want."   
  
He felt cold, like there wasn't any warmth left out there; but moreover, he felt like he'd failed. "No," he refused, fighting back watering eyes. "Just tell me where it is. I need to do this alone."   
  
________________________________________

  
Rose Elizabeth Barnes rested in a beautiful spot in the military cemetery; she perched on a hill, right where the sun would hit whenever the clouds broke. From her gravestone, there was a small wood to take in. Steve bet that it looked beautiful in the fall, all oranges and golds.   
  
He felt strange, standing before this grave of a stranger; of a woman he should've seen grow. Fury's article had a picture of her, in her military portrait; she'd grown up to be a perfect mix of Sylvie and Bucky. His nose, her mouth, his eyes, her hair. She looked severe in the photo, but Steve hoped she'd grown up kind. She must have, having laid her life down for others, just as her father did. He'd never even known her; but he felt like he'd miss her forever.   
  
He clutched at the bouquet he'd picked up on his way there; freesia, lilacs. Sylvie had liked them. The impersonal uniformity of the gravestone told him little about who his poor niece was; it just gave her name, her rank. Her birth date, and the day she died. That was the case for most servicemen; their resting place usually spoke more to who they were than words could express, but Steve could only wish for a few more words with her. A 'hello', 'nice to meet you'. Things he'd never get. Time was playing another cruel joke, and he nearly crushed the stems in his hand with despair.   
  
He set the bouquet at the foot of the marble slab, running his hand over the smooth stone as he crouched. "Hi Rosie," he breathed, scared that growing too loud would be disrespectful. Like he'd somehow scare the dead woman below. "You uh... hi. You might've heard about me from your Ma... I'm Steve. Stevie, to her. I was... I am your uncle," a grieving smile broke out on his face; the whole situation was so painfully absurd. "I know it doesn't make a lick of sense. None of this does; it feels so unfair that I'm here... and you're not."   
  
Silence; because who was there to answer him? There was only a crisp wind in his company.    
  
"Your Ma," he continued, out of a pure need to voice it. "She was one of my best friends. She was nice, even when I was just some raggedy punk kid taggin' along after your Dad," he shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly. "And your Dad... oh, Rosie, he loved you," he could picture Sylvie telling her that every day growing up. He hoped she knew it was true. "He loved you the minute he saw you. Even if it wasn't in person."   
  
He heard the quiet rev of an engine on the road that ran through the grounds, but paid it no mind. He had catching up to do.   
  
"I'm sorry I never got to know you," he felt like he had a lifetime unlived to apologize for. "I just... I hope the world treated you well, sweetheart. You deserved so much better than a punk like me for an uncle, who couldn't..." _'Couldn't keep your dad alive.'_ He knew the words but he couldn't say them, just running his hands over his face as he stood back up. He couldn't think of what else to say. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Rosie."   
  
The soft plod of footsteps on grass caught his supersoldier ear; someone was closing in. He turned, and his jaw dropped.   
  
Suddenly the winds were accompanied by the flutter of a red dress; a dress worn by a ghost. She hadn't aged a day. "Sylvie?" He choked out, still aghast. "Sylvie Watkins?"   
  
The woman stared back at him with a quizzical expression, like she'd seen a ghost, her own bunch of blooms held to her chest. That's when Steve noticed the difference; the eye shape wasn't his, but the color was exact.   
  
Those were Bucky's eyes.   
  
"Sylvie Barnes," she corrected, questions filling her mind. "Did you know my mother?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the story will begin to grow it's bones, ya'll - we're in for a ride :) 
> 
> Like my work? Kudos / comment! Love you guys ♡

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! If you're enjoying it so far, leave me a comment! I love to hear from my readers ♡


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